


Sorry for Interrupting

by eratothemuse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Caught in the Act, Cheating, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 11:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: Imagine catching Stiles cheating on you and instead of yelling, you quietly say, “Sorry for interrupting,” and leave before he can stop you.





	Sorry for Interrupting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Imagine catching Stiles cheating on you and instead of yelling, you quietly say, “Sorry for interrupting,” and leave before he can stop you.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/438447) by thranduilsperkybutt. 



> An original title, for sure. I wanted to explore this prompt further and since a bunch of people wanted me to, as well, I decided to actually expand the imagine into a oneshot. I don’t know if it’s what you guys wanted but ugH IT HURT ME DESPITE BEING FUN TO WRITE.  
> \- Meg <3 xx

You wanted to scream at him. Yell at him. Tell him he just lost the best thing that ever happened to him in the midst of a speech like the elaborate ones you’d seen occur in movies after something like this.  _Anything_  that would make you feel okay after.

But you just couldn’t. You didn’t have the energy or the presence of mind when walking in on Stiles and her to even so much as process the scene before you. You knew well enough that Malia and Stiles had dated. You’d thought those feelings were over when you ever even came into the picture, but you’d been wrong.

You’d been wrong about a lot of things, apparently.

You honestly hadn’t even fully wrapped your head around it yet as you slowed to a walk in your haste to escape the street Stiles’ house was on. Now, you were walking back to your own home, feeling empty and slightly nauseous as the feelings churned inside you, threatening to erupt. You were dry-eyed for now, still looking as if you’d seen a ghost as you make your way to your home with the scene you’d witnessed only minutes before replaying in your head as if on miserable repeat.

_It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice that things between you and Stiles had been… different the last few weeks. You talked, but there were omissions, a strange distance between each interaction that only comes when two people are growing apart. There were times when he was busy with no explanation._

_The sad fact was that Stiles and you weren’t the same around each other. At least, not like you were when you’d first gotten together. But you didn’t act like you used to either. The little thoughtful things you would do for each other at first had dissipated with time and the stress the events occurring in Beacon Hills had put on your relationship. You got too comfortable and that, perhaps, was even more dangerous._

_You’d wanted to surprise him. Bring him some of his favorite dinner while his father spent his late-night shift at the station, and maybe try to start mending whatever had been broken in your relationship._

_But as you opened the door to his room, you saw Stiles with her, and he saw you seeing them together, stammering out some sort of shocked and guilt-ridden sentence that you don’t catch because of the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears. As if in a daze, you begin to turn, mumbling a single, broken-hearted reply quietly before you hurry down the stairs, ignoring the call of your name he sends after you._

_“Sorry for interrupting.”_

The image of Stiles kissing Malia was burned into your retinas. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to forget it. The more you replayed the moment you’d opened the door to his bedroom, the more horrible you felt. Emotions overcoming you like a storm that you didn’t have the time to analyze right now. You were reacting, plain and simple. Only it wasn’t plain or simple. The flurry of complex emotions couldn’t be narrowed down to something as simple as angry or sad. It was combinations of hurt, betrayal, and a gut-wrenching heartbreak that you hadn’t ever thought yourself capable of feeling before this very moment.

You pause in your steps as the streetlights come on, breathing heavily as you lean against a tree in someone you don’t know’s front yard. It just now dawns on you that you’d left what had been meant to be both Stiles’ and your dinner on his dining room table as your stomach rumbles lightly. Your phone had been vibrating almost nonstop in your back pocket since you’d caught Stiles cheating on you. Cheating. The word almost didn’t adequately describe the action from which had caused you this much pain.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, it lights up your face as you confirm your suspicions. It had been Stiles calling and texting you. You really didn’t feel ready to even so much as look at his messages, let alone speak to him at the moment. What would you say?

_“Hi, Stiles, so is Malia still there?”_

Yeah, no, that was not going to be productive right now. The mere thought of having to put up the effort to form a coherent sentence about this was something that exhausted you. You felt your throat close a little, making it harder to breathe the more you stared at the announcement on your phone that you had seven missed calls from him. Taking a deep breath, you felt the space behind your nose burn with threatened tears.

Shaking it off as best you could, you retake your march down the street and towards your home. You’re unable to clear your head despite the fresh summer air that surrounded you, making the California night warm and inviting. It was a stark contrast to how you felt inside. Nights like tonight had always been filled with things that you’d wanted to remember. Things like hanging out with Scott and the rest of the pack, or Stiles as you’d originally planned on tonight. Instead, the beautiful night had been spoiled.

Part of you didn’t want to let Stiles have that much power over your own happiness, but you couldn’t help feeling the way you did. The way that he and Malia had made you feel at the end of the other negative emotions, was forgotten. Had you just been a second thought in his mind when he’d kissed her? Had she kissed him first, and he didn’t push her away? How had you not seen it coming?

So many questions filled your mind as you found yourself opening your front door with shaking hands, having found your way home on autopilot for the remaining length of your trek. How were you going to face the two of them? When would you even feel like it? None of these questions were with answers as you shut the door behind you, leaning on it to take another deep breath before you finally let go in the comfort of your empty house. Tears flowing freely down your face as you slid down the door to sit on the flooring just inside your home, unable to force your way any further towards your room before the feelings caught up with you.

For the first time in a while, you cried.

* * *

It was the middle of summer, so you wouldn’t really be forced to see Stiles in the same way as if you’d had school the following day. That’s why it had taken you about the length of a business week to even feel okay about the thought of seeing him without that fact being much of an issue. You should have known the rest of your friends would hear about it soon enough, because of course Stiles would tell Scott. Scott had apparently told Liam, because he had sent you a text; the beginning of the sea of questions people had asked you or wanted to ask you. As if you knew the answers.

_Are you okay?_

Of course you weren’t. That was one answer you had. While the concern behind the text touched you, you really didn’t want to discuss this with Liam. As for Stiles, you hadn’t been taking his calls or replying to his texts, but you’d read them. They consisted mainly of apologies and attempts at explanations all in the midst of begging for you to pick up your phone. On the fourth day of your isolation, Stiles’ texts dwindled throughout the day. The final one was the one that had made you want to talk.

_I hope I didn’t mess this up forever._

Honestly, you didn’t know if he had, but you also didn’t know if he hadn’t. You didn’t know if you would ever forgive him for this, but you also didn’t know if you wanted to give up on the relationship you’d had with him. Was there anything there anymore to even give up on? That, you didn’t know either.

It was the fifth day before you texted him back. A single, hesitant sentence at your fingertips that you sent to him with a shaky breath.

_Meet me at our place._

* * *

_Our place_  consisted of a large rock on the outskirts of town that he had sworn looked like a heart when you’d first found it all those months ago. The two of you had been on Liam duty during a full-moon in the early stages of his being a werewolf and had been out looking for the boy you’d of course lost track of when stumbling across it. It was happenstance, really, but to the two of you at the time it was fate. Stiles had been the one to insist that and, cheesy as it was, you thought it was romantic.

The romance was no longer in the air as you found Stiles already sitting there in the midday, waiting for you when you come upon him now. He was scanning the trees until you emerged from them, his eyes locking onto your own. Those brown eyes you’d fallen in love with over the course of your friendship looked worn now, despite his youth. The past few days had apparently taken a toll on him, maybe just as much as it had on you. Dark circles hung beneath them, making you wonder how much sleep he’d gotten as your heartstrings tugged with worry despite what he’d done.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something as you come to stand in front of him, but you can tell what comes from him isn’t what he’d initially planned to say when he clears his throat, “Wanna’ sit down?”

You could tell he was scared you were going to run off at any moment, which, to be honest, was an accurate assumption considering the way you wished you’d waited just a little longer to have this talk right about now. Deep down, though, you knew that never still wouldn’t be long enough for you to be ready for this. Looking back at him, you catch the regret in his eyes as his brow furrows with worry.

Swallowing dryly, you reply, unable to help the angry bite to your voice, “No.”

“Okay, you’re angry, I deserve that,” Stiles replies quickly, nervousness lacing his voice as he takes a breath, “Did you read my texts? I know they aren’t enough, but I was hoping—”

“I read them.”

“Oh, okay, thank you,” Stiles’ tongue darts out to wet his lips as he thinks of a way to put anything into words, “Nothing can make what you saw— what I did— okay, but I hope I can find a way to show you how sorry I am—”

You cut him off again, unable to stop yourself as that burn behind your nose you’d come to be intimately familiar with this past week flared up again, “Do you love her— Malia?”

Stiles’ response is quiet as he looks guilty at the sound of her name, “I’m not in love with Malia. I love you, (Y/N).”

“Then why did you do this?” you question, steeling yourself with an inhale through your nose as you try to soften your glare at him. “Have you been with her for longer than last night?”

“We— I had been with her the night before that, but we didn’t do anything, I swear,” Stiles hurries through it, but that doesn’t stop your heart dropping further at his deceit.

“You’d told me you were with Scott that night,” you remember, voice barely above a whisper as you try to not revisit the emotional hurricane that had hit you when you’d initially caught Stiles and Malia together. With another breath, you ask, “You weren’t with her any more than that?”

“No, (Y/N), I promise. It was all a mistake,” Stiles runs a worried hand through his hair as he stands from the rock to move closer to you as he confesses. “Malia and I have history, you know, and maybe there were some feelings still there, but I don’t love her. She just kissed me that night and I kissed her back because I— I still felt them and things have been different between us. You’ve been distant.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” you ask angrily.

“No, no—!” Stiles’ eyes blow wide as he realizes how you took it, clarifying, “I just think I wasn’t trying anymore. I was pushing you away, maybe, but I don’t want to be practically flatlined like I’ve been being. Having you catch me kissing Malia made me realize that.” Stiles reaches out to take your hand and you let him, wanting to hear him out, “Let me try to fix this— us. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I don’t want you to hate me.”

Stiles is looking at you with hope and deep down, no matter how much he’d hurt you, you knew you couldn’t hate him.

“I don’t hate you, but,” you begin, the words clawing their way up your throat before you can stop the honest hurt from coming from you in a pained whisper, “I don’t know if I love you anymore, either, Stiles.”

His whole face drops as if you’d kicked a puppy, a small sound coming from him in a heartbroken, “Oh.”

“I just,” you realize you’re shaking as you meet his eye once again, noticing that he looked just like he always did before he was about to cry, “I need some time to figure this out.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Stiles’ voice cracks before he clears it, his hand gripping yours a little tighter in his own fear.

“I’m still standing here, aren’t I?” you squeeze his hand back, offering him a small, sad smile as you decide, “I’m still giving you a chance.”


End file.
